


The Tree in the Wood

by 60sec400



Category: Christopher Robin (2018), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universes, Clone Wars, Dimension Travel, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), attachment does not equal love, england 1950s, you can have two (2) whole dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60sec400/pseuds/60sec400
Summary: The Robin family has made their way to the cottage in Sussex for a well-earned winter break. And, for once, it snowed. Enamoured by the snow and despite being warned to stay close to the cottage, Madeline Robin heads to Hundred Acre Woods to play with her friends. Instead, she wakes up a little further from home.
Relationships: Christopher Robin & Madeline Robin, Madeline Robin & Evelyn Robin, Madeline Robin & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is. I don't know what this is. Updates will be slow, as I'm planning a move and entering grad school, and working full time but you know! The idea gripped me. 
> 
> Ah well! I love combining universes or playing at two totally separate things and bringing them together this way. I hope you enjoy the story and where this goes!

**Prologue: An Adventure for Morning**

* * *

Madeline tucked the book beneath her pillow and settled into her bed. Winter had settled around them and the house in Sussex, old and cool in a way it had never been in the summers. She buried further into her blankets, thinking back to her book of elves and knights and all the things she’d never been allowed to read before. 

Her father had indulged her with little booklets and novels that he’d never had allowed before. They would sit every morning and he would ask her all her thoughts, just like he had about her schoolbooks every once in a while. But now he listened to her talk about books she did enjoy, with characters and plots that she found herself enamored by. 

She still had to do well in school, but he let her play, and he indulged her, and gave her hugs far more than he ever had before. She found her father was kind. And he had a nice laugh. 

She yawned and rolled over, tucking further into the blankets. The windows in the house are old, her mother had explained, and there’ll be a draft. She’d found that there very much was a draft, and that it pushed right through her blankets. 

Madeline closed her eyes tight and thought Sleepy thoughts. Perhaps, tomorrow, she could take her book to Hundred Acre Wood and share it with Piglet, who enjoyed hearing her thoughts just as much as her father. 

“I want an adventure,” she whispered to herself, “Like…,” she hummed and rolled onto her back, eyes opening again to stare at the ceiling, “Like Lucy and Susan and Peter.” Like Lucy and Susan and Peter, Madeline had been whisked away to somewhere else. Although, unlike them, she was not brought to an unfamiliar place in a strange and terrifying time. 

Yawning again, she said, “Swords. And knights. And talking creatures.” 

She turned to face the window, watching as snow began to drift down. How unusual! It rarely snowed where they lived. Braving the cold and hopping out of bed to press her nose against the glass, she watched the snow drift down in front of her. 

“Like the wardrobe,” she breathed. Finally feeling the chill, Madeline made her way back to the bed. Being out in the cold attic had almost been good; now her bed felt warmer than before. Burrowing in the blankets, her eyes drifted shut. 


	2. The North Wind Doth Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madeline finds herself drawn to misbehaving, as little girls are want to do.

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**The North Wind Doth Blow**

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will poor robin do then?

Poor thing! 

He'll sit in a barn,

To keep himself warm,

And hide his head under his wing. 

Poor thing! 

* * *

She woke the next morning to a frosted world covered in white powder and a chill in the air that was easy to ignore. Bounding out of bed, putting her slippers on, Madeline’s face held the largest grin she’d had in ages. She leapt down the old wood stairs of the cottage three at a time and landed on the ground floor with a  _ THUMP!  _

“Madeline,” her mother admonished, brow furrowed and hands on her hips, “Careful!” 

“I’m fine!” she exclaimed, leaping into the kitchen with large, bounding steps. The old wooden table had already been set and her parents both sat there with steaming cups of tea. “There’s snow outside!” 

“Yes,” her father said, a small smile gracing his face, “Very exciting. But, listen to your mother.” 

“I do!” 

“Madeline,” they said together. 

Her shoulders dropped as she slid into her chair across from her mother. Evelyn Robin’s dark hair was still tied up in her night curlers. She leaned across the table toward her daughter, hiding a smile behind her hands. Relaxing, Madeline perked up. 

“I can go play outside in the snow today, right?” 

She looked to her father as she said it. He glanced over at her and smiled. The admonishing forgotten in them both, her parents looked down at her with bright, but tired, eyes. It was still early in the morning and Madeline knew she’d been a bit too loud. But there was snow! And snow meant a clean slate for the mind. There were endless possibilities in the snow. Perhaps, she too, would find a lamppost in the wood. 

Her mother moved to go begin breakfast and her father crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. He was still wearing his sleepwear, one slipper hanging haphazardly off his foot. He tapped a finger on his chin and hummed loudly. 

Fighting a smile, her father leaned forward to whisper. “Do you know what you find in the snow?” 

Madeline squinted at him, turning her face slightly- away. “What?” 

He gestured for her to come closer. She leaned in, holding tight to the edge of her seat, and peered up at her father. 

“What do you think?” he whispered. 

“No!” she said, “No, tell me! Please!” 

Her father leaned back with a satisfied smile. “What do  _ you  _ think, Madeline?” 

Suspicious, she mimicked his position, and leaned back in his chair. “Fairies,” she said slowly, “Or… no, hm. Very little people. They live… in mole hills!” 

“Mole hills?” 

“Honestly!” her mother sighed, but Madeline could hear the grin in her mother’s voice, the way the words twisted around a wry and drawn smile. 

“Yes!” Evelyn said, “Little people that live in mole hills and weave… they weave snowflakes into dresses!” 

“Snowflakes into dresses?” her father asked, rubbing his chin in thought. “Seems cold, I think.” He nodded to himself and then shook his head. “Too cold.” 

“No,” she insisted, voice low, “They keep warm with magic. The snowflakes are so the dresses sparkle!” She glanced out the long row of windows that sat on top of the counters where her mother was preparing the breakfast. It was still grey and cloudy outside. Small flakes still fell from the sky around the cottage. 

“I can go outside right?” she confirmed, leaning closer than before. She must emphasis the seriousness of her situation. There was snow! In Sussex! 

Her father smiled at her softly and rested his hand on her hair. “Of course, darling.” 

“After breakfast,” her mother said, and sat the bowl of porridge. “And you’ve cleaned up and gotten your coat on.” 

“Yes,” her father confirmed, “You’re not so used to the cold.” 

She tilted her head to the side and let her spoon fall into her dish, brow furrowed in concentration. “Father, does it snow in Hundred Acre Woods?” 

Her father’s grey eyes met hers and got that odd look to them they always did when she mentioned the Wood. He leaned back in the chair, steaming tea still in front of him, and he crossed his arm and rubbed his chin in thought. Staring distantly at the table, he spoke.

“Yes,” he said, “I do believe there were times where it snowed here and then there, wherever there is. I imagine if you were to cross over today, you’ll find snow there as well.” 

“I don’t want you going today,” her mother said, drawing their attention to her.

“Oh, no! Please! Let me go!” 

But her mother shook her head, glancing only briefly at her husband before she looked her daughter in the eyes. Madeline’s protests stopped and her shoulders dropped at her mother’s gaze, head sinking just a little. In front of her, her porridge sat uneaten. 

“And if the weather were to pick up and worsen?” Evelyn Robin asked, gesturing with her hand in the direction of not-the-table. “And you can’t find your way home? I just want you to stay close, that’s all.” She smiled then, and Madeline, for she was a good little girl who mostly obeyed, nodded beneath the woman’s gaze. 

“Right, then,” her mother said, “Eat up. Playing is a lot of work. Perhaps you’ll find little people weaving snowflakes.” 

“Perhaps,” Madeline sighed, and stuffed the porridge into her mouth. 

Breakfast was not, and had not been for the past few days, a rushed affair. She spent the morning after eating up in her room most days, excitedly turning the pages of her book into the lunch hour before she was called down. Then, after lunch, she sat with her mother and drew, and then in the afternoon, they would all reconvene for afternoon tea. Then, Madeline would either go outside, or, and this happened most days, she would sit with her father and they would talk. 

Today, after breakfast, Madeline hurried to her room and threw open the wardrobe that, sadly, did not lead to a snowy wood, but instead her winter clothes. She didn’t quite have everything for snowy weather, but her mother put her in a warm woolen sweater and socks and wrapped a scarf around her heaviest raincoat. 

“I don’t have gloves,” she lamented, staring at her bare hands. 

Her mother glanced back toward the wardrobe, “Ahh,” she hummed, and began to rummage through one of the lower draws. 

“I could keep my hands in my pockets,” Madeline suggested. This would not do, of course, as children are want to pull up the snow and ball it up in their hands for their throwing pleasure. Madeline, like most children, would feel this urge just as strongly.

“No,” her mother sighed, “Here, this will work.” 

And so, the pair of knitted woolen socks were tucked into the sleeves of her jacket tight and left her hands warm and cozy. A hat on her head, hair braided down the sides of her head to cover her ears, and Madeline was ready for the snow. The trooped down the stairs, Evelyn explaining that Madeline must remains close, and Madeline bouncing down each and every step, echoing, “Yes, mother,” and, “I will,” with every bounce. 

Her father stood waiting at the bottom. Still often sometimes unsure with each other, still learning, both had still to get bolder with their approaches. This was one such time where boldness would become a happy memory for both. Dropping to a single knee, her father opened up his arms. She stepped into them and smiled, tucking her woolen self into his chest, and resting her head into the crook of his neck. Strong and sure arms wrapped around her. 

“Perhaps,” her murmured in her ear, “I will follow later.” 

She pulled away, a grin on her face, and she bounced up to her toes. “You’ll come outside to play?!” 

He smiled, eyes crinkling. Her father for a very long time had looked weary and tired. Less so, now, but still. His work had aged him, and the stress of trying to do the right thing and executing it terribly to the detriment of his relationships had left Madeline’s father with wrinkles and lines on his face. He’d taken her aside one night, sat down on her bed and lifted his legs up and tucked her to his chest, and apologized. 

She’d never had an adult apologize before. Not her father anyway. 

I’m sorry, he’d said, for being too hard, absent, forgetful, for not putting her first. For trying to send her away in the same way he’d been sent. He was sorry for making her feel as he had felt. He remembered, he’d admitted, how awful it felt to be left there. And then he’d asked her how she’d felt. 

Then, she’d been unsure. Scared and nervous. Now, she beamed under his gaze. 

“I’ll try and come out,” he said, “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been in the snow. I think I’d rather enjoy it with you, wouldn’t you say?” 

She nodded seriously. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Pulling away, he smiled again, eyes crinkling, “Go have fun. Stay close to the cottage!” 

Madeline squeezed a quick hug into her father before she bound down the hall and toward the mud room. “I will!” she called and opened the door with a sharp SCREECH from the hinges. 

The cold air hit her sharply and snow sparkled into her eyes. Squinting from the over-whelming white, she stood on the stoop and gazed out into the wood behind the cottage. The limbs of the trees were crystalline white. Some were bent low from the weight of the snow. The ground was smooth and clear, with no blemishes, and so Madeline skirted the edge of the cottage as to not disturb it. 

She had to be precise with her movements and think clearly where she wanted to go. Glancing to the wood, she was half tempted to skirt the edge of the yard and head inside. Her mother’s reminder stopped her and so she sat in the small shade of the cottage and rolled up balls of snow, humming quietly to herself. 

She meandered around the yard, humming and singing to herself under her breath. Several times she was able to fall unhindered on his back with no consequence into the snow. Giggling to herself, she let herself get caught in it. The raincoat was effective against the wet and yet not the cold. It felt, in the beginning, almost good on her back. And then the wet had wiggled in underneath and she left the falling to another time. 

She dug a deep hole to where she found and could see the yellow grass beneath it all. And then, upset with it not looking pristine anymore, tried to cover it back up with the muddied snow. 

She walked down to where, in the summer, the flower garden grew. Her mother had taken great joy with it over the past few years. Now, it lay dormant and dead for the winter. Madeline picked at a spindly branch and muttered, “Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all,” the branch snapped, “in a row.” Stepping away with a wince, she scurried from the garden. 

Eventually she made her way, picking each step carefully, to the tennis court and gazed down at the pole that the net attached too. 

“Why couldn’t you be a lamppost?” she sighed, brushing the snow off the top. 

She crouched down on the cold ground and began to gather up the snow. It came up to her knees, and so she was bent at the waist, creating little thick round cakes with the wet snow. 

“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,” she murmured to herself, rounding her a smooth little cake. But this could not entertain a little girl with such an imagination as hers for too long, and so Madeline picked herself up from the snow again and ambled over to the pole and patted it. 

“Oh,” she cried, wrapping a soggy and snow-covered sock-hand to as close to her mouth as she could get, “Mr. Tumnus! Are you there?” 

A cold wind blew past her then, and she shivered within her coat. It pulled up snow from the ground that swirled up around her and into the trees. The world fell quiet again after that. The silence of the snow-covered world let her believe that she was all by herself. In the spring, and summer, and fall, the world would blow with the wind. The leaves would touch hands, and the grass would sway, and breathes of air would warm or cool the faces of those caught in it. 

But in the snow of winter, Madeline found, the world came alive in only that it filled up the gap of silence. In the inbetween there was nothing. She glanced again to the wood. And then to the cottage. 

If she were to really pretend to look for Mr. Tumnus, it would do her no good to look for the imaginary Fawn in an old tennis court. She could perhaps head into the wood for only a little bit, until she carried on enough with her story to complete it. She crossed the middle of the court and climbed the small bank of brush. Another strong wind pushed her forward, pulling up the snow, in the direction of the wood. Silence again fell. 

She grabbed a small tree next to her, ready to heave herself up the bank with a final pull, when she heard her mothers voice. 

“Madeline!” 

The wind blew again, stronger. Snow dropped from the trees above and scattered sparkling flakes into the air. Above her, the trees moaned. Letting go and dropping herself to slide back down the bank, she took off best she could toward the cottage. 

“I’m right here!” she said, coming into view of her mother. 

Gesturing her in, Madeline stomped her boots on the stoop and followed the woman into the warmth of the cottage. The fire had been blazing in the parlor all morning and Madeline had the urge then to go sit in front of it. Perhaps if she had stayed out there longer, she’d have come to that point without need to feel the warmth of the house, but she’d been determined to stay out for as long as she could. 

“Another storm is blowing in,” her mother said, pulling the socks off her hands and the scarf from her neck. “Your father and I were listening to the radio. I don’t want you out there in that.” 

“Oh,” she said disappointedly, “If it clears, may I go back out?” 

The woman smiled and began to help Madeline out of her raincoat. She was 10 years old of course, and could very well do it herself, but her fingers were numb and her lips a little blue and they both determined then the raincoat simply wouldn’t do. 

“After you get all warm, you’re going to want to go back out again?” 

Madeline looked behind her at the snow. It was falling heavier now, the wind blowing stronger. Humming to herself she said, “Oh, maybe not.” 

“No, I thought not,” her mother agreed. “Alright, here’s a blanket. Go sit in front of the fire. Your father is waiting for you.” 

Smiling to herself and attempting to hide it beneath the large blanket, Madeline made her way to the parlor where her father was sitting, book in hand. He smiled down at her as she made her way to his side, pulling her feet up beneath the blanket that she was wrapped in. 

He pulled her close with an arm around her side. “I was going to join you before your mother and I heard the announcement,” he said quietly, “I want you to know that.” 

“I know,” she said, a yawn overtaking her. 

“Tired?” he smiled down at her. 

“Yes,” she said, “It was almost up to my knees. I had to lift my leg so high to walk!” 

“Is that so?” he asked, and it seemed, although she couldn’t be sure, that he pulled her closer. She nodded into his side. “Would you mind if I read aloud? I know it’s not–.” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

“It’s a boring book.” 

“I don’t mind,” she assured him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Well then,” he said, and began, “The first cathedral was consecrated in 1077 by the famous Bishop Odo in the presence of William the Conqueror and Matilda–.” 

And so, Madeline listened to the ease of her father’s voice, the wind just outside, and the cackling of the fire. Slowly, but surely, she drifted off to sleep.

While the wind blew strong, it could not reach her, and settled overnight to only a cool gentle breeze one could only associate with summer. Madeline would eat a warm dinner under candlelight with her parents and then be carried up to bed by the strong arms of her father. Tucked in and kissed goodnight, they would leave her to a long and healthy rest. She awoke the next morning bundled in warmth much like the day before and ate, like before, an eager breakfast that would see her ready to go back outside into the snow. 

“It’s still snowing,” Madeline said with slight awe, leaning on her chest onto the counters to look outside, legs brought up behind her for leverage. 

“Planning on a second excursion?” her mother asked, leaning against the side of the counter and staring out the window with her. 

“Maybe,” she hummed, and then glanced up at her mother, then said, “Yes, I think.” 

“It is all fresh out there again,” Madeline observed, “A brand new slate.” 

“Yes,” her father agreed behind her, “Perfect for little girls and their fathers.” 

In the corner of her eyes, Madeline saw her mother give her father a look, but she was too concerned with peering out of windows where the cold air permeated through the glass. Breakfast was over and so she was back upstairs, pulling on stockings and pants and sweaters. In the end, she stood there with her boots on and her mother looking down at her. 

“Well, the raincoat didn’t keep you very warm,” she said. 

Madeline shook her head. 

“You could wear another sweater,” her mother mused, “And tuck it into your stockings.” 

“We’ll do this,” her mother said, “You’re father's very nice, very comfy and warm woolen winter coat. And have your raincoat beneath it.” 

While her mother went to get the warm winter coat, Madeline slid on the raincoat. Returning with a bundle of grey in her hands, they pulled it on and fit a belt tight snugly over her waist. Even with more socks on her hands, the sleeves of the coat dropped far past her waist and hung at her side. 

“I think I look silly,” she said as her mother fastened the belt. 

“You look warm,” her mother justified, hands sliding down Madeline’s arms. 

She tromped down the stairs after her mother, who regaled all the rules from the day before back to her. Unlike yesterday, her father was not waiting at the bottom for her. Well, things couldn’t always be a dream. She bade her mother farewell and was off down the hall and back out the mudroom door. 

The cold and the snow were less of a surprise than yesterday, and Madeline found a grin spreading across her face as she pulled her knees up and stomped through the snow. 

“Mr. Tumnus!” she called, pretending as if she were Lucy finding the lamppost all over again, “I’m here!”

Of course, no one answered but the wind. 

It swirled the snow around her, her small little braids that fell just to her shoulders moved across her cheek. “Mr. Tumnus!” she called to the wood, following the wind. Lifting her arms up and letting the long sleeves of her father’s coat fall down, she called out, “I’m much more prepared for the weather now, you know!” 

The wind brushed past her. She moved through the snow to the tennis court and leaned on the post on the tennis court, wrapping a socked-hand around it and twisting in a circle, one hand over her forehead. “I’m waiting!” she said. 

Glancing back up toward the woods, Madeline found herself being drawn in them. She could play in the woods for part of her Pretend. If she were quick enough, her mother would never know where she’d gone. She pushed through the snow and up the bank, heaving herself up with trees and branches before she came to the top. 

“It’s quite cold here,” she said, looking back down at the tennis court. “The White Witch has a hold on this land.” Then she covered her mouth with her socked-hands and looked up at the trees. “The trees listen,” she whispered. 

As she tip-toed through the listening trees, she found herself in front of the tree to Hundred Acre Woods. Around her the wind blew stronger, the wind swirled up in twirls and twisted around her. She wanted to see her friends; perhaps they would play with her. Ah, of course they would, Madeline still had to work on her imagination, but it was still there, and she knew she could convince Roo or Piglet to get in on a game of pretend. 

Smiling to herself, she began to clear away the snow from the hole. She would only pop in for a quick minute, she told herself, and her parents would really be none the wiser. She gave the tip of the cottage through the woods only a brief glance back before she was crawling through the tree. 

It was thick at the base and safe from the snow. Taking a moment to enjoy the warmth from the snow, she crossed her arms beneath her head and buried her face in the wool and the strong smell of her father’s jacket. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. When she’d go through, she would have the joy of seeing Hundred Acre Woods as delightfully pretty as the otherside, covered in snow and twinkling like stars. 

Eyes closed, she did not feel herself drift off to sleep. 

And around her, the wind blew hard and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. If All the Seas Were One Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madeline wakes up somewhere with no exit and then she meets the strangest people she's ever met.

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**If All the Seas Were One Sea**

If all the seas were one sea,

What a great sea that would be!

If all the trees were one tree,

What a great tree that would be!

And if all the axes were one axe,

What a great axe that would be!

And if all the men were one man,

What a great man that would be!

And if the great man took the great axe,

And cut down the great tree,

And let it fall into the great sea,

What a splish-splash that would be!

* * *

Madeline woke up. 

She woke neither in the tree nor her bed, nor in Hundred Acre Wood or the wood outside the cottage. She was still lying flat down, enveloped in her father’s coat, head in her arms and in the warm woolen sleeves. But gone was the tree and the dirt and the slight chill of winter. Now, there was the chill of melted snow and metal and a darkness that had not existed before. 

Lifting herself with her arms, blearily blinking around, Madeline found she was in some sort of large metal closet. There was nothing in it but long pipes and wires that ran down the height of the wall and into the floor. An access room, then, like the Boiler Room in her old school in London. One where little children, although she was hardly inclined to count herself as little, were not permitted. 

To her right was a door, light leaking through the bottom, and was firmly shut. She picked herself up entirely off the ground. It was still cold, but not winter cold. She touched the wall with her socked hand. 

“Hello?” she said aloud. In such a small place, her voice did not echo. It had no room. The door had no handle, nor did it seem to have any sort of seam other than the bottom; she could not find any way to actually open it. “Hello!”

Drawing up her fists, she banged on the door. It did not budge. Madeline did not normally dislike small spaces. But she did mind small spaces she had no control of. Wrapping blankets around yourself and crawling under the bed to make a cocoon was one thing. Finding yourself trapped in a strange metal closet was another. 

There was a permeating humming noise around her. It was constant and would not let up and, despite her searching for the source, it appeared to be coming from everywhere. She banged her fists against the door twice more and yelled for someone, anyone, to come rescue her. 

Where was she? She was obviously not in Hundred Acre Wood. Madeline slumped down the wall and drew her knees to her chest, her head hitting the wall with a thud. 

She had only wanted to go to the wood to see her friends. She had only wanted someone to play pretend with. Something to occupy her time not by herself while she waited for her father to come. She’d been warned against straying too far, in going to the wood, and now the tree had taken her elsewhere. Elsewhere that was new and unfamiliar and lonely. 

Her breath hitched. If only she had heeded her mother’s words. Regret settled in her heart and a tear slipped from her cheek. Would she be stuck here forever? If she stayed long enough, fell asleep maybe, would she find herself waking up in the tree? She felt like Diggory and Polly in the Wood between the Worlds, except she had fallen asleep in a tree and woken up some place very far from home. She’d been in the inbetween. Now, she had landed in a world not like her own. But who was to say where exactly she was? Perhaps she’d remained trapped here in this closet.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. 

She sat there for some time, hugging her knees to her chest, with tears running down her face. Madeline wished she were back inside with her father, listening to him read about Cathedrals and Kings before the warmth of a fire. The memory kept her comfort as the humming persisted. 

“Someone please help!” she called out and brought her fists to her side, banging the metal with a CLANG. 

That _did_ echo through the closet and up into the ceiling and the metal around her. She must’ve hit the ground with enough force as something clanged above her head out of sight. She stilled as the echo faded into nothing. The humming persisted. And the metal became silent. A sob broke from her throat and she did not bother to wipe the tears away from her face. Crying openly, it was the only way she could hope someone could hear her and the only way she knew how to deal with her emotions. 

“I didn’t mean to!” she said aloud, as if she were apologizing to her mother. One that could not, currently, hear her. Evelyn Robin did not have the faintest clue where her daughter now sat and would not until her husband bundled himself up in her borrowed coat to go outside and could not find her. Madeline had presumed she’d been asleep for quite some time before waking up in the strange metal closet but had truly no idea how much time had passed. 

In reality, not much at all. The distance, in this case, had far more importance than the time. 

Madeline had been very careful as a child, eager to please and listen. She’d been an easy child, rarely argued, and hardly made a fuss. Teachers had told her she was “mature for her age”. She wanted to follow rules, because then she was good, and if she was good, then she was liked, and if she were liked she was noticed. Now, she was missing. She wanted to cry more, but the tears had run out; the one time she didn’t listen and follow, she was punished. The one time she wasn’t good, there were consequences she hadn’t foreseen. 

Her mother had told her not to stray because if the snow picked up and she got lost, she would not be able to find her way home. Madeline had strayed and now she could not find her way home, and probably never would. 

She sniffled to herself and dropped her head onto her knees, arms encasing her legs best she could. 

And then, footsteps echoed outside the door of the closet. Several of them. Their shadows crossed in front of the light that leaked from below. Madeline stilled. She had been calling for someone before, but now fear gripped her. What if she were in danger? What if these people were not friendly? 

Her eyes glanced around the small closet. There was nowhere to hide if they opened it. If she was quick enough, perhaps she could rush past them… but her coat was huge, and she was still wearing all her snow clothes. 

The voices outside the closet door were muffled by the metal and unfamiliar. She shrank further into herself. Outside, there was a quiet beeping and the door snapped open with a hiss. 

Madeline nearly yelped at the sight of them. Three men in strange white hard clothes, like armor, stood in front of her. They all wore helmets and carried, at their waists, what appeared to be some strange sort of weapon. With the opening of the door, fresh air was brought into the closet. A breeze brushed past Madeline’s face and, like with the snow, brushed her braids past her cheeks. 

“Well,” one of the men said, tilting his head to the side, “Seems we got a stowaway.” 

“Aw, it’s just a kid, Wicker. Hello there,” the man said, dropping down on one knee and raising his hands in the air. 

“Still a stowaway,” the man, Wicker, replied, crossing his arms. “How’d you get on the ship kid?” 

Madeline blinked at the three in front of her, brow furrowed. “I… ship?” Was that where she was? Had the tree taken her to a ship? That would explain, then, the metal. She looked around herself again and then back at the men. “I woke up here.” 

“After you stowed on away, sure,” Wicker said to her, shaking his head. “This is a Republic Vessel, kid.” 

“Republic?” she asked and then shook her head back at him. “We have a King– no, Queen, now! I don’t… think we’re a Republic.” 

“Maybe on your planet,” the third man said, “You’re bundled up warm. And still not where you’re supposed to be. Come on, up.” He turned toward Wicker and said, voice a little low. “Raise an alarm to be on the lookout. This could be a distraction for an infiltration.” He looked back down at her and gestured for her to stand up. 

Madeline picked herself up off the ground and stepped out into the corridor. It was one long hall, all metal and grey, with strange oblong lights that repeated every few panels of the wall. There were no windows but there were several doors and crossroads in either direction. She felt particularly out of place in her thick boots and woolen coat buckled around her waist, especially with the three white-dressed men in front of her. 

“What’s your name then?” the one on the floor asked. 

“Madeline,” she said with some hesitation. 

“Madeline,” he said, giving her a nod, “My name is Boomer. That’s Wicker and Nax.” 

She scrunched up her nose and looked up at Nax. “That’s a funny name.” 

“Picked it myself,” he replied. 

“Really?” she asked, “I didn’t get to pick mine.” 

“No,” he said, stepping to the side to gesture for her to follow. “I don’t suppose you would have.” 

He led her down the hall, leaving the closet behind, with the other two following close behind her. Wicker leaned into a small device into his wrist and spoke into it quietly. Like a radio, but too low to hear. Madeline tried to strain her ears like she had when her parents talked in low voices after her father returned from a long day at work, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

“Did you all choose your names?” she asked instead, looking up at all of them. She tucked the scarf away from her face. 

“Er, yes,” Boomer said. 

“Oh,” Madeline replied, looking forward and unsure what to do with that information, “That sounds nice.” 

“We’ll take her to Central Command,” Nax said, leading her down a hall that held nothing familiar. Grey and metal, Madeline looked for something she could find familiarity in but had either no point of reference or simply did not know what to look for. “We still need to find out how you got on this ship. I’m sure the General will want to know.” 

“I told you!” she exclaimed, hurrying to catch up, “I fell asleep and woke up here! I promise!” 

“Yeah,” Boomer said behind her, to Wicker, “And I’m a Hutt.” 

She had no idea what that meant. She walked alongside them and found only other men dressed in the same white armor with orange-gold passed them by. They all turned toward her to look but said nothing as the small company headed toward “Central Command”. Madeline scurried along with them. Occasionally, if she fell behind, Wicker would put a hand on her shoulder and help her catch up. 

She was afraid. She wanted her parents. Her mother, her father. She wanted to be home in front of that fire. Not on any ship, with me in armor, walking to a place where she may get punished for stowing away. 

Toward a General. 

Madeline had learned very early to not ask her father questions about the war. Her mother had sat her down one day and said there were three rules she must follow. Madeline had taken it very seriously; she always did, regarding her father. One, her mother had instructed, was to never to ask questions. If he brought it up, then let him speak. But never ask yourself. Two, she’d said, tucking Madeline’s hair behind her ear, was to not be too loud. No yelling or screaming. Right, Madeline had remembered thinking, she was not much of a yeller anyway. 

And three, her mother had said seriously, never ask if he’d killed anyone. 

Madeline knew that her father had been a Major. She did not know where. Madeline never asked, and her father, who only got the far away look in his eyes from the war when it was mentioned on the radio, had never said. Perhaps, in time, he would be ready. Madeline was not in any particular rush to know. 

What she did know was that General far outranked Major. And she had never met a General before. In stories she’d read, General’s were old and cranky and hard to deal with. They cared for their men but rarely showed it and would do almost anything to sacrifice themselves for their men or the mission. Madeline had read, indeed, very few books with Generals. Still, she felt she had at least a somewhat comprehensive knowledge of what to expect. 

They came to the end of the corridor and into the strangest looking lift she’d ever seen. No metal door or lift attendant to greet them, Boomer punched in the buttons for their supposed location and they shot off. 

Madeline stumbled slightly but was caught by three sets of hands and a small pat on the head. She did not feel unsafe. Unsure, yes. Most definitely scared. But unsafe? 

She glanced up at Nax, who stood straight ahead with his arms at his side. Biting her lip and swallowing what little pride she’d had left, she said, “I’m sorry for causing trouble.” 

Nax looked down at her and sighed through his helmet. Then, taking it off, she was greeted with a kind, if stern, looking man. He didn’t kneel down to her, like Boomer had. “We heard someone calling for help. You, eh, you are in safe hands now. You’re on a Republic vessel. We’ll get you home.” He gave her shoulder an awkward pat. 

“I’d like that,” she sighed, staring ahead as the lift doors opened. “I want to go home.” 

“I’m sure we’ll get it all squared away,” Boomer said behind her, “No problem. Right, Wicker?” 

“Er, right.” 

“This way,” Nax sighed, leading her from the lift to another long hall. They walked past more and more of what Madeline presumed were soldiers. Nax kept his helmet by his side and then another soldier walked by, with the same face. Madeline watched him walk by. 

“Do you have a twin?” she breathed, looking up at him. 

And then she stopped short. Because there stood another man, helmet off, with the exact same face. Her heart began to beat faster. Was this a dream? A torment? Had the tree taken her somewhere worse than she’d thought? The sameness of the halls and doors and lights bled together. Were the faces the same here too? 

“Hey, hey,” Boomer said, stepping quickly in front of her as she stared at everyone with what appeared to be slight horror. “Nothing to be afraid of. We’re all brothers.” 

“Brothers?” she squeaked, eyes flickering around concerned faces. 

“Yes!” Boomer said, a little loud. “Yes, we’re all brothers. We just all happen to, er, look the same.” He glanced up at Nax. “See? Our hair is different. And I’ve got a tattoo right here.” He tilted his head to the side and ran his gloved hand over a black tattoo on the side of his shaved head. It was what appeared to be a logo of some kind. Madeline looked at Nax who, although he did not have to, turned his head to the side as well. His hair was longer, and the side of his head was clear of tattoos.

Madeline looked back at Boomer and swept a tear from her eyes with her socked-hand. “You must have a big family.” 

“Oh,” he nodded seriously, “We do, we do. The biggest in the whole galaxy, I reckon.” 

She sniffled. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Wicker said behind her, “I can confirm.” 

“Must be nice,” she said, “Mine is very small.” 

“That so?” 

She nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I love them less. I think you must have a lot of love in you to love that many brothers.” She bit her lip and looked down, breathing out and long before she gazed back at Boomer. The man’s brown eyes were warm, and he gave her a nice smile, eyebrows raised. He didn’t encroach on her space. 

“I’m ready to see the General now,” she said slowly. “I do just want to go home. And I promise I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” 

“Well,” Wicker said behind her with a little laugh, “At least it’s something exciting, wouldn’t you say. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just worry about getting’ you home and back to where you need to be. After we talk to the General.” 

Madeline nodded seriously. She did want to be home, not here. And as nice as these soldiers appeared, she did not want to be stranded on this strange ship forever. It must’ve been large. She could not feel any waves or pull from the ocean moving the large ship. Then again, she had only ever been on a small dingy, once, on a lake. That had been far rockier, and she’d ended up soaked from head to toe. And wet the whole way home. 

A submarine? 

She nodded again, then, and the three headed off back down the hall. They passed more and more “brothers” and Madeline couldn’t help but stare, although she knew it was rude, as they walked by. Did they all look exactly alike? And she’d never even seen a tattoo before! How strange and wonderful! 

It was of course, incredibly taboo, where little Madeline came from. Although she was still quite young enough and impressionable to not know this at all. As far as a ten-year-old little girl was concerned, it was permanent art all the time. 

But she didn’t know that, so she looked up at the side of his head for the tattoo every moment her eyes roamed past his head. Geometric and square, it reminded Madeline of the art books her mother kept in the cupboard. Books she’d always wanted to read but hadn’t been for school so, like her novels, she’d left them alone. This place seemed to be made of same-men, hallways, lights, and doors. She did not even find a glimpse of a window to let in sunlight. Only the strange white artificial light of a doctor’s room. 

They walked into a smaller, guarded hall, with more “brothers”, and Wicker touched a hand to some strange device on the wall. The door, like the others, hissed open and slid into the wall. It led to a large circular room with more soldiers. All helmeted except for one, with blonde hair, Madeline felt as if she were standing out. Around a glowing blue table stood a man.

He had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes and the strangest dark robes Madeline had ever seen. He turned around; arms clasped behind his back. He was young, like one of the teachers at her school, or the handsome men she and her mother saw while they did their shopping. And, next to him, was the strangest… person, Madeline had ever seen. She appeared to have long blue and white horns growing from her head and orange skin. On her face were white tattoos? And her clothes were tight against her body, arms bare at her side. 

Madeline stopped short. But it didn’t matter, Wicker and Nax stepped forward. All three of the soldiers saluted. 

“Stand down,” the man said, still eyeing Madeline. “This our stowaway?” 

Madeline shrunk into her father’s coat, hiding her mouth behind the large scarf that was still wrapped around her head. The ship must be cold; even through all that walking, she hadn’t felt any hotter than she had walking around the snow. Oh, the wood! She wished she were back there now. Even the boring tennis court would be better than the unknown. 

Was this the General? He looked so much younger than all her thoughts! Surely, he was only just in charge of these men, and not the whole ship. He gazed down at her with hard blue eyes, quirking one eyebrow up when she said nothing. 

“Well?” he said, leaning toward her just a little. 

“Master,” the girl with the horns said, rolling her eyes as she stepped toward Madeline. “She’s only a kid.” Turning to Madeline with a small smile, she said, “My name is Ahsoka Tano. What’s yours?” 

Madeline balked. The girl in front of her was so _pretty._ And her voice was so kind, like Evelyn Robin’s, that if it weren’t for the horns growing out of her head and down her front and back, Madeline’s nervousness would have been whisked to the wind. As it stood, she swallowed and shrugged into her father’s coat for comfort. Then, she said, “Madeline Robin.” 

“That’s such a pretty name!” Ahsoka said, “I love it. Now, I’m sure you’re scared, but my Master and I would love to know how you got on the ship.” 

“I…,” she looked between Ahsoka and the Master, whose face had turned slightly sympathetic as she struggled to speak. None of the soldiers, the audience of many, spoke as they watched the exchange. Some were ignoring what was happening. Others seemed to be wholly focused on the three and her escorts. 

She swallowed down her fear. She could do this. “I woke up on the ship, I think,” she said quietly, “In a closet. I swear I didn’t sneak in! I promise!” 

The Master sighed and ran a gloved hand over his face. How strange, she noted, that one hand was gloved and the other wasn’t. He glanced up at the ceiling and then down at her. “Listen, we stopped at a few places. Are you from Evertt? Noimédia? Courwik?” 

She blinked owlishly at him, having never heard of any of these places. “Sussex.” 

“Is that a city?” he asked. “On which one?” 

Madeline opened her mouth. 

“Sir,” one of the brothers said, sitting in front of a glowing blue window of some sort, “Transmission from Coruscant and the Temple, sir. The Council wants to speak to you immediately.” 

“Right,” the Master said, “Ahsoka, you take our Stowaway somewhere… else. I’ll handle the call.” He turned back to Madeline and, with a softer look in his eyes, he said, “I hope I’m not scaring you. We’re on a tight schedule here. We will do our best to get you back home, Madeline.” 

“Thank you,” she said, tugging on the long sleeves of the coat. 

Stepping forward, Ahsoka holds out her hand. Her fingernails are painted black; it’s one of the most curious things that Madeline has ever seen, after talking animals and horns. But she accepts the offer, if only because the strange white armor of the soldiers had been so cold and this girl has been, so far, very nice. 

“Any breeches?” she hears the Master ask as they leave.

They leave the round back and back out the hall. The soldiers immediately salute her but Ahsoka waves them off and takes Madeline, still by the hand, down the hall. In her mind, she thinks she feels like Lucy, being whisked off by Mr. Tumnus. Only, now, instead of being overheard, she’d be doing the overhearing. She only glances briefly back at the round room before it disappears from view and swears, she sees something that looks like a haunting blue ghost looming over the Master. 

They walk to the lift and Ahsoka takes her down to another same-hallway and they march into a room that appears to be a cafeteria. It’s nearly empty, but Madeline is sat down at the table regardless. 

“We’ve only got ration bars,” the girl apologizes, going over to a small bin that’s sitting on a ledge by a big window. 

Madeline perked up. She did not remember much rationing. Still, though, they were rationing meat and bacon. It was a rarity she’d only been bestowed on once or twice in her time. She’d never quite heard of ration bars though. Then, she is reminded of a book she’d read not too long ago about sailors in the navy. She snapped her fingers beneath her still socked hands. “Like hard tack!” 

Ahsoka gave her a strange look. “I don’t know what that is.” 

Madeline frowned. “Oh.” 

Ahsoka sat across from her and handed her a very thick and almost bendy brown bar. Madeline removed her woolen socks and placed them to her left, shoving the thick sleeves of the coat up her arms. They barely stay down, but she grabbed the bar and stared down at it. 

Ahsoka smiled. “Just take a bit. It isn’t too bad, when you get used to it.” 

She feels embarrassed, almost, to be eating so ravenously when her stomach growls the loudest, she’s ever heard it. It must’ve been hours since she fell asleep in the tree and woke up here. She did not realize how hungry she was. She should’ve savored the porridge that’d been stuck in front of her all those hours ago! 

Madeline bites into the bar. It’s soft and chewy and tastes like nothing. It isn’t good, but it certainly isn’t bad either. It reminds her of the food they ate when, far away in her memory when she was still so young, her father was at war and her mother could only afford the barest. 

Ahsoka’s smile isn’t any less gentle, but she watched as Madeline devoured the ration bar. “Hungry?” 

“Yes,” Madeline nodded, “Very.” She finally glanced around the ship and took stock of how vast the entire thing is. Looking shyly back at the strange girl, she said quietly, “Where am I?” 

Ahsoka blinked. “You’re… on a ship headed to Coruscant. We’re about mid-rim now. Should be entering the core in a few hours.”

“I don’t… Coruscant?” 

“We stopped at Noimédia only a few hours ago. Is that how you got on? We made landfall,” Ahsoka gestured back toward the bin. “Want another one?” 

Madeline shakes her head. Had the tree truly swept her away to somewhere completely new? She thinks of Diggory and Polly and the wood between the worlds. Glancing at her fingers, she’s relieved to find no rings, gold or green. But she did fall asleep in a magic tree that took one to a far-off lovely place where there was nothing to fear but imaginary Heffalumps. Had the tree, in her sleep, taken her somewhere else? But where? She’d already come to this conclusion, Madeline was indeed a smart and clever little girl, but she could not help but ask the question to herself again. 

She thought back to the strange place the two characters ended up the first time. A great evil had been unleashed upon their arrival and they’d had to make their quick escape. Instead of a cold and forgotten place, she was in a cold and yet still living place. There was a sameness to it that left Madeline feel out of place and out of touch. It was a sameness that she did not recognize and could find no comfort in. 

“I’m alright,” she told Ahsoka. “I’m scared.” 

“I’m sure we’ll get you home,” Ahsoka assured. 

Madeline shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said, “I don’t think I know how to get home.” 

Ahsoka, who did not appear to have any eyebrows other than the white on her forehead, raised her brow, looking concerned. “Our ship was orbiting anyway. Did someone bring you on?” She tilted her head to the side. 

“No,” Madeline insisted. “No, that’s not what happened.” Then she paused. “Or– orbiting?” 

“Yes?” Ahsoka asked, and then her face turned sympathetic. “Oh, have you never been off planet before?” 

Madeline stilled, blood draining from her face. Off planet? She suspected she was not even her world. But. Off planet? What did she mean by that? Where could they possibly be if not on some other earth, if it were not her own? But poor Madeline, at only ten, could not comprehend what the implications of such a statement were.

“Madeline,” Ahsoka said sternly, “Do you know who the Separatists are?” 

Madeline shook her head, still staring at a single spot on the cold metal table. 

“And our ship? Did you come alone?” 

“I did,” she breathed. “I promise, I came alone.” Tears began to spring to her eyes, and she wiped at them furiously with her scarf. The scent of her father’s coat overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears. “I didn’t mean to leave!”

Ahsoka reached across the table but Madeline jerked away. “I want to go home!” 

“We’ll try and take you home,” Ahsoka said, “I promise, please. I need you to breathe.” 

But Madeline couldn’t. She was not on her world. She was not home. It was only now that the implications of falling in the tree came to light. She had truly been whisked away. And, while Polly and Diggory had returned home at the touch of the rings, she had no such thing. The tree was gone. She was on a strange metal ship with, like the witch and Mr. Tumnus and all the animals of Narnia, someone who was not human. 

How would she get home? Were her mother and father lost to her, then? Did all she have of them, her father's coat and some old woolen socks turned inside out? Where would she go? 

So far from home, would even God hear her prayers? 

Ahsoka stood and hurried across to the other side, sitting next to her and wrapping a strong arm around Madeline’s back. The strange thing growing from her head brushes Madeline’s cheek. She could not find it in herself to care. Curiosity eluded her. He leaned into the hold and sobs. 

How will she get home? The question repeats itself in her head like a mantra. But it brings her no comfort. Madeline will not find comfort in her thoughts any time soon. Is she lost? Forever? She can see no alternative. 

Little girls are not slaves to their emotions any more than little boys. Madeline is stronger than she realizes. She cannot yet pull herself from her tears; but one could be sympathetic to her situation. She grasped at Ahsoka’s arm and felt herself lean into the hold. 

As he sobs shutter to dragging breathes, Ahsoka turns to face the little girl. “Are you ready to breathe with me?” 

“I’m alright,” Madeline said hoarsely. “I really did wake up here. I feel asleep somewhere I shouldn’t have. And then I woke up here.” 

The white brow furrowed again but this time Ahsoka said nothing. 

Madeline wanted to get the subject changed, desperately. She peered up at the girl through thick lashes. “I’m sorry if this is rude. But. What are you?” 

The girl blinked. “Uh, Togruta.” 

“Oh,” Madeline said, “Was that rude to ask?” 

“No,” Ahsoka said, then paused. “At least, I don’t know. I’ve never got asked.” 

“Can I touch them?” 

“My Lekku?” 

Madeline nodded. “Is that what they’re called?” 

Ahsoka let out a small laugh, “Yes, I take it you’ve never seen them.” The Padawan clearly takes the moment as a learning opportunity, and ran her hand over her right Lekku, closest to Madeline. “This is a Lekku. On the top of my head are my Montrals. Those are very sensitive. Thank you for asking permission, but I’d rather no one touch them.” 

Madeline straightened. “Oh. Sorry! I di–.” 

“You didn’t know,” Ahsoka laughed, “I remember the first time I touched someone’s hair. Strangest thing.” 

“You don’t have any?” Madeline said with slight awe. “I don’t keep my hair long. Mother says it’s difficult to manage. I have her hair, apparently.” 

Ahsoka laughed. “Your mother?” 

Madeline immediately looked down. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” Ahsoka said and squeezed Madeline’s arm. “We’ll get you home. I’m sure Master Anakin will find out where you came from. Do you know the name of your planet?”

Madeline frowned. “It doesn’t have a name. We call it Earth.”

“Like… dirt?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes,” Madeline said surely, “Earth. It has one moon. We call it the moon.” She taps her hand against her chin, “In one of my schoolbooks, we read about the Greeks and the Romans. They gave the moon names. Artemis and Diana. And it was all for the same moon!”

“Wow,” Ahsoka said lightly, “A moon with two names. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” She paused. “I was born on Shili, but I grew up on Coruscant.”

“That’s where we’re going,” Madeline said quietly, “And then… I’ll go home?”

Ahsoka grimaced and pulled away slightly. Madeline looked up at the girl. The Lekku brushes her cheek again and it feels soft. But the touch doesn’t linger and Ahsoka sucks in a long breath. “I’ve never heard of any… planet named Earth before. But, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll find it.”

Madeline pushed the fear that surged in her head and nodded, looking away. How would she explain she believed she was from a whole different world? This place did not work from London to Manchester. This was planet to planet. She tried to think of the vastness of stars and could not fathom the distance. And yet, here she was. She’d always thought a train was the fastest thing in the world. How fast were they going? How fast to travel between the stars?

She could feel her thoughts overwhelming her and she shut them out.

 _Think about something else!_ She thought to herself.

An idea struck her. To go back to Sussex, she would have simply gone back through the tree. If she could find the closet in which she’d arrived, perhaps she could sneak in and wait to be whisked back to the tree. If she could find the panel, then she could be home.

If only, now, to escape Ahsoka. She would not believe Madeline. Most adults would not. When she was taken home by the tree, then she would be free of consequences of escaping her watchful eyes. She would find the closet. There was no other option.

If she did not, she would be trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized after I wrote this chapter that C.S. Lewis did not publish The Magicians Nephew until 1955 and this story takes place 2 years before then (you know, on Earth) so F the timeline I was going for but it was too late to change it. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


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